“Cork!” whispered a husky voice. “I’m Ace Hawkins, an’ if ye breathe a word out loud, things’ll go hard fer the two o’ us. We’ll palaver a spell.”
For a moment the Laramie man was dazed. Ace Hawkins, one of Red Steve’s White Caps, there in the room with him! And he had come in stealthily! Why?
Quick as lightning, Wild Bill’s brain solved the problem in what he conceived the most logical way.
The White Caps were taking the fate of the prisoner in their own hands. Benner was not desperate enough to suit them. They would put the prisoner out of the way without letting Benner know anything about the proceeding until it was too late for him to interfere.
Wild Bill tried to sink his teeth into the hand that smothered his lips.
“Quit that, you!” hissed Hawkins. “What fer kind of way is that ter act? Ain’t I come here ter help ye, runnin’ all kinds o’ risks? Red Steve is at the door of the other room, an’ Shorty Dobbs an’ Splinters Gibson is outside the winder. I was around the side o’ the house, an’ took my life in my hands, by climbin’ to the roof an’ comin’ down the chimbly. I’d be skelped good an’ proper if Red Steve knowed whar I was.”
Was Wild Bill dreaming all this? Ace Hawkins, who had seemed to be the most savage of the White Caps, was sneaking around and running the risk of life itself in order to do him a good turn. Naturally, the Laramie man couldn’t believe it.
“That’s a good yarn, Hawkins,” murmured Wild Bill.
“It’s straight,” protested Hawkins.
“I don’t believe such a crooked coyote as you are could talk straight if he tried.”